


Once More, With Feeling

by 0ASHburg3rs0



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Green Arrow (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types, Zatanna (Comics)
Genre: Complete, Crossover, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Empath, F/M, Hurt, Magic, Movie: The Dark Knight (2008), Oliver Queen is The Green Arrow, Other, POV Jonathan Crane, POV Zatanna Zatara, Possessive Jonathan Crane, Post-Justice League (2017), Science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:28:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26886643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0ASHburg3rs0/pseuds/0ASHburg3rs0
Summary: Zatanna is captured by a dangerous doctor. What he wants and who she is makes for a match made in Hell. Warning: First chapter contains depictions of abuse and non-compliant physical/sexual themes.
Relationships: Dr. Jonathan Crane/Zatanna
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

How long had she been here? Had the league been searching for her? At the start of this imprisonment she tried vehemently to connect mentally with Jon, the Martian Manhunter, but it felt like the link had been severed somehow.

**Clink**

The clanking sound from the steel bolt opening her room pulled Zatanna from those drifting thoughts.

The room was white and padded throughout all four walls. The light from the ceiling was harsh, but standard for any hospital setting. Zatanna absently raised a hand to the white fog and cringed. The lack of sunlight was causing her naturally warm olive skin to take on a slight tinge of yellow. Within the room was a toilet and bath accompanied by a hanging curtain for "privacy" in the far left corner, a sink on the other side with a small hand towel and an ornate brush, and a bed in the center where Zatanna currently laid wearing a plain white gown, her thick black hair wild around her face.

Zatanna tucked one of the tangled ebony locks behind her ear and glanced at the brush. The irony of such a beautiful trinket gone to waste was the only humor she could seize from this stark place.

**Step**

The soft thud of polished loafers on tile echoed throughout the room. Zatanna hated the seemingly innocent noise. It always signaled _his_ arrival. She shifted slightly in order to turn her back to the door, recoiling her hand to rest near her chest in the process, palm over heart as if to offer some type of protection. There was nothing else to do and nowhere else to go. The door was the only entrance and exit to the room.

_This room is a cell_... she mused silently.

Zatanna could feel the fight in her draining. Her voice was the catalyst for her power. She enchanted audiences during her brief stint as an illusionist with her charming spells and later ensnared the villains of Gotham and Central City with her darker incantations. Sure, the magic was always _in_ her, but without her voice she could barely even muster dim sparks flittering from her fingertips.

"Good morning, beautiful." The voice was precise and sterile like a surgeon's knife. It cut through the fallen heroine and prompted her eyes to tightly squeeze shut, not ready to face the monster.

But his presence was still felt.

The weight of a thin, tall, male's form sunk into the bed with his hip grazing Zatanna's back. He shifted a bit, settling in so that he could open a small briefcase on his lap. The clicking from the briefcase always triggered the same flashback of memories.

* * *

**Click click click**

A few quick taps on the keyboard and the distress signal's location was projected in large font over the spacecraft window. Two out of three heroes observed with caution. One was a swift blur, already gearing up to reach the location.

Green Arrow and Jon offered to go with her, but the league's resident magician had patrolled these streets before. A distress call and coordinates from downtown Gotham were hardly things worth bothering her teammates with. Besides, the criminal activities in Gotham had significantly decreased since Nightwing took on the mantle of Batman. Dick was away for correspondence with Diana on Themyscira. Zatanna smirked thinking of how he would relish in the details of whatever new criminal mafia was sure to have sprouted in Gotham during his absence. He promised Zatanna a drink when he returned and this would definitely be something well worth talking about...

"Are you sure, Zat? We don't even know who sent the message." Ollie quirked a bushy blonde eyebrow and placed a hand to rest on his quiver strap as if ready for battle. Jon stood to his left watching the exchange between his friends.

Zatanna giggled at the sight finding it difficult to take the man in green leggings and a costume rivaling Robin Hood seriously. Of course, her costume wasn't exactly fear provoking. Still, her pristine fishnets and top hat paid homage to the greats and if nothing else Zatanna was a stickler to tradition.

"I'm serious, Zat!"

Zatanna stood with a hand on her hip and rolled her eyes.

"I'll be fine, Ollie. Honestly, I got a few tricks up my sleeve for whatever gang or lowlife is sneaking around Gotham."

"But we don't know wh-."

"Blah, blah, blah."

With a wink and before there could be more protest, Zatanna swiped on her white gloves, gave a twirl, and shouted "TROPELET OT NWOTNWOD MAHTOG!" disappearing in a puff of gold glittering smoke. Her comrades looked at each other with concern.

She arrived at the familiar spot as expected, only there wasn't a criminal in sight. In fact, there wasn't anybody at all in the dark alleyway, but that wasn't what struck the heroine with surprise. All Zatanna did see was a black top hat with a familiar stuffed white rabbit peaking through the rim. Her eyes narrowed in confusion.

"What are you doing here?"

She only managed a few steps towards the odd scene when the hat swiftly released purple gas that lulled her into a deep slumber.

* * *

"I've been tinkering with the serum. This shouldn't hurt as much."

_Here again..._

He tugged her arm, causing Zatanna to shift over and face the doctor.

_No!_

Her eyes widened accompanied by the light stirring of fear.

_This needle is so big! How could this one possibly hurt less than the others?_

Syringes leaking with medications pumped into her daily, stripping her of her voice, her connections with the league members, even some of her strength. Her captor gave a slight squeeze of the trigger, causing little spurts of green dew to flicker across the air. He smirked at his handiwork with pride.

_How could this be possible? Maybe none of this is real? Maybe I'm still unconscious and dreaming amongst those purple clouds..._

**Prick**

There was a faint noise and sensation of painful pressure. The throbbing marred flesh of her arm let Zatanna know that this was not a dream. Her eyelids gently fluttered open and her gaze lazily drawled down towards the spot on her arm, her blurred vision focusing on the bony, pale, grip that held it in place and a small ruby droplet of blood that slid away. The pale figure quickly wiped it away and placed a wrap on the spot. Despite the pain, a ghost of a smile began to etch across her quivering lips.

_A dream._ She mused.

When was the last time she had one? It seemed all she was afforded was the occasional blessing of darkness in sleep. Too few nights had been spent in darkness. Most of the time the night was stolen by terrors. The manufactured nightmares Dr. Jonathan Crane used to torture her.

The grip on her arm tightened causing the slightest wince to crease her face. A shooting pain recoiled from the spot followed by the cool voice of her captor letting out an annoyed breath.

"Have I lost you already?"

_To be lost and away from this place would be a very welcome dream right now._

His hand left her arm and was now caressing her face. The cold skin almost felt nice...near numbing.

"You aren't meant to go insane. At least not yet."

He threw his head back and let out a high-pitched chuckle, some of the slick inky tresses stuck to his forehead. After a few moments he regained his composure and licked his lips.

"I still need you..."

_No._ She attempted to mouth, but it merely appeared as a sharp intake of breath, the light from her eyes draining insidiously _._

There was a sudden shift in Dr. Jonathan Crane's features. The ice of his blue eyes melted into feigned tenderness. He clicked his tongue and removed the clear-framed glasses from his face, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment as if in deep thought.

"Maybe not as painful...but too numbing?"

As if a light went off, he dove into the brief case once more and pulled out a small orange vile. With haste, he uncorked it and while cradling Zatanna's neck, brought the contents to her nose. The scent was energizing. A mix of orange and ginger attempting to mask a chemical undertone.

_I feel warm_

Whatever Dr. Crane had given her was working. The heat made it's way through her body, bringing a change of color to her face. Physically she was feeling much better, but Zatanna resolved to hide her content with the vile.

_It was your fault to begin with. All of this is your fault._

"Stay with me." He spoke it as an intimate whisper.

Zatanna merely watched with a doll like stare, apathetic and indifferent.

_Get away from me._

Dr. Crane sensed her distance and in an effort to physically overcome it, gently tilted her face towards his, pressing those dead lips into a forceful kiss.

_No. Not again._

She found him most terrorizing like this. Not masked in the rotten straw form of the scarecrow, not with his case of noxious gas, but as Jonathan Crane. Jonathan was a disturbed... **desperate** man. The perfect irony of an antisocial psychologist that never carried feeling. His work on the questionable in character, yet very much human patients at Arkham Asylum was disgusting and violent and a true testament of his lack of empathy. He tried so hard to negate that image of madness. Even now dressed in his fine suit, musky cologne, and pretense of sophistication...Zatanna could taste the truth in his lips. It was bitter...cruel...and yet there was a longing buried deep beneath the surface.

Crane broke the kiss for air and a chance to reposition himself on top of Zatanna, still fully clothed, a thin sheet separating their bodies. The briefcase and syringe he just shot her with fell carelessly to the floor. It was an uncharacteristic spectacle for anyone who would have walked in, seeing the good and often stoic doctor lusting after one of his patients. Of course, no one would come, whatever or wherever this place was.

With the renewed strength from the vile, Zatanna rose her arms against his chest in protest. It was weak, but enough of a push to stop the assault on her lips. Dr. Crane broke the kiss and looked down at her defiant face. His lips were agape and that intense desperation radiated in his eyes.

"I-I can make you want me! Don't you see that? I have formulas that bend the will of my patients." He was panting heavily while stroking Zatanna's face. A strand of his greasy black hair dangled above her. It felt like a worm slithering across her face. Or perhaps that was just one of the nightmares.

_Get off of me._

Dr. Crane made this plea a few times before. The medication made her senses dull, but the powerful magic that lived within her, the magic that didn't need a catalyst was always strong. It was a magic only few in the league knew she possessed, yet everyone no doubt, _felt._ It was the reason that wounded souls sought her out even before she joined the league. Once while she was touring her illusionist act in Gotham, a fan found their way back stage and told Zatanna about her depression...that she hadn't felt anything in months, but being at Zatanna's show, just in her presence, made her feel safe somehow. Like the young girl mattered. The raven-haired beauty didn't know whom this girl came with or if she was old enough to be wandering alone at night. She didn't know how the girl even got tickets to attend the show. It wasn't from paying if her worn out romper and scuffed shoes were any indication. Still, Zatanna wanted to help her. She could feel the sadness that lived within this girl. There was a deeper belief of being unlovable emanating from this poor soul. At that moment Zatanna was torn. She wasn't a mental health professional, but this girl needed **something** and though ethically it could be wrong, the magician wanted to use magic to help her. That special power...

Her only resolve was to speak a spell she thought might help with this little one's anguish. Plucking her lucky stuffed white rabbit from the vanity, she handed it to the girl with a weary smile and hummed.

"Leef evol"

The aura of pain was replaced with love, though how long it would last remained uncertain.

More powerful than her spells and enchantments was Zatanna's strength as an empath. Recently, words didn't need to be spoken for Zatanna to magically transfer her own feelings of contentment and compassion to others. Each day, Crane delivered the daily dose of serum. Each day, she felt the physical pain of the needle entering her body and the emotional hurt that lived within him as well. Each day, it became more difficult to mask the pull his pain had on her own heart. It was a beautiful gift being an empath and at times, a powerful curse. She didn't want to sympathize this man's hurt...his pain...the darkness that lived within him. She wanted to show nothing. Feel nothing.

Her face betrayed her inner resolve to remain detached as her eyes softened and looked into his, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

The ability to feel the emotions of other beings was something she had never been able to turn off. In time, especially with training from Martian Manhunter, one of the few who knew her power, the league's empath learned to cope with the more _intense_ feelings she'd pick up from others. Unfortunately, her current state of fatigue coupled with Crane's serums rendered those coping skills useless. There was no denying she pitied this man. The electric current of compassion flowed from her body as he thirstily drank it up.

"Yes. That's it."

Crane seemed to sense the shift and placed a kiss on her forehead, then down her cheeks continuing until he reached the teardrop and licked it away tenderly, relishing in the taste. He made his patients cry many times. Exposing their deepest fears as he donned the Scarecrow persona was one of the only ways he was able to feel anything. Their pain seemed to fill a void he was left with long ago. Their tears were different. Selfish tears. Zatanna's were tears for _him_ , a caring he had never felt before. They tasted like _compassion_ , even as he treated her in this way. He looked down at her pained face, more tears swelling up in those beautiful dark stormy eyes.

_I hate this...I hate that I care..._

She cried for him even as she was his prisoner.

After years of watching her from the shadows, he finally found a way to ensnare his magical paramour. The one entity that could make him feel beyond anger, momentary satisfaction, and the unfortunate reeling's of fear from the Batman.

Crane gritted his teeth at the thought of the dark knight.

Zatanna was the only one from that idiotic troupe of mega humans that had any useful power, at least to him. It wasn't brute strength or ridiculous gadgets. The beauty was magic. How ironic a man of science could be so ensnared by this witch's spell.

"Good girl, Zatanna. I know you care about me. You're so special..."

Crane licked his swollen lips again, feeling the urge to kiss the spell caster once more. Zatanna was a beauty. Even the most impaired patients he worked on could see that. Those expressive eyes, long hair, full lips, warm skin, and naturally those curves...

"You're just so beautiful."

_I hate it when he says that._

He craved the warmth of her body. Crane withdrew himself from his towering position over his captive and motioned to sit up once again on the bed. After getting comfortable he pulled Zatanna up by the shoulders, twisting her to turn so that her back leaned against his chest. Zatanna stiffened slightly, the doll like trance slowly dissipating as the side effects of Crane's injection waned and the empathic convulsions reverberated inside her. Crane's arms slightly hugged her body to him. He rested his chin on one of her shoulders and took a husky breath into her neck. Despite two weeks in this room the area still gave off a faint scent of spice like cinnamon. Crane greedily inhaled, closing his eyes as he took in her sweet scent.

"You smell so good."

_I hate this._

After what felt like agonizingly long moments to the lost heroine, Crane's words collided with the tender skin, tickling her neck.

"I don't **make** you do things Zatanna."

_You make me stay here._

" I want to give you your voice back."

_Liar._

Crane began to lightly stroke his hands up and down her arms, an attempt to be soothing. It was clumsy and merely caused the hairs on those arms to stand in annoyance.

"I want to witness the spells you could perform for me. "

_You want to use me._

"I want to set you free..."

Zatanna's even breathing hitched. He never mentioned that before. She felt her heart burst as if one of Ollie's arrows hit her in the chest. Crane seemed to take notice, nuzzling her neck and smirking in victory. As disgusting as he was, her body relaxed into the sensation. It physically felt good and Zatanna was high off the chance of escaping outside.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? To walk in the sun?"

He nuzzled her neck further and then hovered over the crux of her ear speaking in a low whisper that tickled and caused her to involuntarily shiver.

"I want to hear your voice."

_I'd kill you._

Would she? After Bruce's death, Dick became obsessed with "not playing God" and enforced a strict no killing rule the entire league followed, but that wouldn't stop her. The disappointment from her teammates was a speck of dust compared to the real catch.

"I want you to love me. I can love you. I already do."

_Stop it._

The biggest barrier was that damned pull in her chest. The heat of hate mixed with compassion that was so crippling, it burned from the inside out. Could she kill this broken man? Would she?

There was a slight twitch against the small of her back. Zatanna closed her eyes, banishing all thoughts of empathy and compassion. It was him she felt.

_Oh, God. No._

He continued to harden, no doubt aroused by the early sensations of compassion now tainted with fear. She tried to move away, but his fingernails grazed her skin, warning her to stay in place. The sense of power spurred the clothed tightness below to lengthen further.

" I want to hear the beautiful sounds you'd make for me."

_I'd scream._

He was bolder tonight. He began to kiss her neck as his hands moved from their ministrations up and down her arms to raising the gown above her thighs. Zatanna tried to wriggle out of his grasp once again as the panic of the unknown sunk in.

_He never gets this close. He neve-_

Those long arms pulled her harshly back to him

"Calm down. I don't want to hurt you." His voice was gruff and filled with lust.

But Zatanna was anything but calm. With whatever energy left she thrashed and clawed at the sheets to free herself from him. He grunted as she inched herself half way out of his grasp and crawled to get off the bed. Crane took advantage of the position and easily shoved her down on the mattress, placing himself behind and pinning her legs down with his knees.

"Relax! I know you love me! I feel it Zatanna, I feel it when you look at me. I feel it when you're next to me. Let me feel it inside you..."

The cold graced the bare flesh of her back as he ripped the gown open, forming goose flesh on the once smooth skin. A hand pressed on her back pushing her deeper in the mattress, while another fumbled with the metallic noise of a zipper being undone.

_No no no no no...please stop!_

He was dangerously near now. The leather from his belt clumsily tapped one of her cheeks. The tip of his stiff, weeping, rod trailing her upper thigh.

_NO STOP!_

And in that moment of pure panic, the brave enforcer of justice, the carefree charmer, the whimsical force of light that was Zatanna lost it. Sobs wrecked her body and her mouth silently screamed for Crane to feign kindness and leave her be. It didn't matter if she stayed in this room forever or died here of starvation, just please leave her.

As she braced herself for the incoming violation, the pressure on her back subsided and the cool air was replaced with a sheet covering her instead.

_Wh-what?_

There was a buttoning of pants and frantic footsteps to the door accompanied by heavy breathing, but Zatanna didn't dare turn to see the spectacle behind her.

**CLINK**

The heavy door opened and slammed shut. Scarecrow was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now for the final act.
> 
> *
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> *
> 
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> =====================================================================

"Doctor! DOCTOR! PLEASE!"

"The butterflies are burning. I feel them in my head..."

"HELP ME! HELP ME!"

The dark loafers continued their march on the grey tiled floor, ignoring the pleas that followed. It was a frantic march absent of routine composure, but the pale figure was intent on reaching the end of the corridor. At this moment, only one patient interested Dr. Jonathan Crane.

"s-s-so...quiet."

"Please make it STOP!"

"Father! Father!"

Each cell erupted with pained cries for salvation. The sounds were piercing through the stale air. Crane knew the trek to his patient's cell would be littered with screams of the damned, but for the first time their screams penetrated his soul. For a few seconds he contemplated stopping, but thoughts of mercy fled quickly once he came face to face with the bold crimson door.

"HELP ME!"

Crane fumbled with the iron lock, the pain from his patients interfering with his precision. Cold beads of sweat were dripping off his forehead and into the clear rim of his glasses, further blurring his vision. After pushing the lever with a final tug, he threw his body into the room, slamming the door behind and falling to his knees. The intensity of emotional pain lessened with the physical separation of the door. After a few panted breaths, Crane brushed a hand through his hair, feeling the moisture coat his long fingers. He looked at the hand in disgust and swatted away the sweat. Closing his eyes, he attempted to regain composure and adjusted his tie, taking one final deep breath before standing. With an air of prideful sophistication, Crane prowled over towards the patient's bed.

"When you told me that she could make you feel, I must admit it seemed impossible."

The patient was strapped down to the bed, a gag in her mouth. Tucked in between one brown strap near her arm was the same white rabbit Zatanna encountered that night in the alley. Though a bit tattered and dated, the same white rabbit from her vanity all those years ago.

Crane knelt by the bed and looked down at the woman. A look of catatonic euphoria imprinted on her face.

"Of course, what is impossible in a world full of caped crusaders and super humans, hmm?"

He slowly removed the gag fastened to his patient's face.

"Something happened today...something you didn't tell me about."

Despite the insidious tone, his patient remained unresponsive, clearly in a peculiar place of madness.

Crane clicked his tongue and sighed, searching his suit pocket for the same orange vile he had given Zatanna earlier. The remembrance of what he had put her through struck his mind and he nearly dropped the vile, grimacing in the process.

"Ah."

Uncorking the stopper, he brought the vile near the woman's face. She inhaled and after some time the look of euphoria waned, but was still present. After what seemed like even longer, her dried lips parted to speak.

"She made me feel good."

It was a soft voice emulating a toddler.

"And?"

"I felt good all the way home."

"And it stopped the next day?"

She nodded her head with a child-like charm, though this woman was well into her 20's. She turned her gaze away from the doctor and down at her rabbit.

"This is my friend."

"I know."

"His name is Houdini."

"You've already told me th-"

"Zatanna gave him to me."

Crane rolled his eyes. None of this was new information. She told him this story again and again back when he started as a...respectable psychologist.

The thought made him smirk.

Numerous suicide attempts, chronic depression, the teenager came for an initial evaluation at Arkham Asylum in the outpatient unit. An initiative the city took for civilians to seek treatment and quell the fears surrounding inmate treatment at Arkham. The only people who took advantage of the clinic were the destitute. Wealthy elites steered clear. No matter what frills were adorning Arkham, it was still a shit hole.

Patient #7 was not wealthy, but she did have a wealth of information that piqued Dr. Crane's interest. Sure, her initial ramblings of a magician that could take away pain were disregarded as nothing more than a delusion. Delusions run rampant in Arkham Asylum. Like patient #3 's who adamantly exclaimed he was the next prophet. Crane loved tormenting him with nightmares of Hell fire.

"I want to hug Houdini."

Then he met Zatanna.

"Please let me hug Houdini?"

Typically Crane would ignore a request, but the earlier stirrings of compassion still stuck to his skin like a foul stench. Reluctantly, he undid a strap across the woman's arms so she could hold the stuffed toy.

What did that witch do to me...?

A fuzzy hand caressed his cheek.

"Leef evol!"

Her voice imitated a burly man.

Is this really what she thinks that thing sounds like?

He placed a hand to the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, tilting his head back in frustration.

"You probably won't understand. You can't possibly with all the meds I'm pumping you with, but something happened."

Patient #7 clutched Houdini to her chest and stared at Cane with wide eyes. He took the silence as permission to continue.

"I wanted her. I felt the compassion...it was pure. Not like the manufactured euphoria I shoot you up with. There was tenderness..."

He felt like he was speaking to a brick wall. Something about the human face and assurance that these words wouldn't be spoken to another pressed him to go on.

"I wanted to be inside her." His head bobbed forward once more and his arms dropped to his sides. His companion made no movement and appeared to be staring blankly as if in a daze.

"She's beautiful." As the words escaped his lips a smile took their place.

"Who would fault me for it? When that neanderthal Bane saw her, he wanted to claim her as his too, brutally, mind you. That night we ambushed The Batman and in a glittering puff of smoke this...this...harlot in fishnets arrives conjuring spells, that ebony hair sparkling through the starry sky. The way the bat looked at her...he fought so much harder...she empowered him...sh-"

A stinging sensation brought his attention back to the room. How long had he been seething in anger? Those perfectly manicured nails had dug bleeding half moons into his pale palms. All the while his audience remained blissfully remiss.

" I would have been gentle." He licked his lips and looked straight ahead, envisioning what could have been.

"I wanted to place my hand between her thighs, gently caress her. Make her moan, just for me. Feel that warmth and get her ready so that I could slowly push myself inside." His eyes closed once more as he took a deep breath, relishing in the daydream.

"I just wanted to feel her legs wrapped around my waist. To stroke her face, a fistful of her hair, feeling her warmth envelope me...I wanted it. I knew if she felt me she'd want it too. I just knew it, but then..."

Images of tears and pain littered her face. He hurt her. She hated him. Crane fell to the floor again and pounded his fists on the ground. His patient clung tighter to the stuffed rabbit, but made no attempt to console the fallen doctor.

"I feel it all. The hurt...the pain...her hatred."

Crane gritted his teeth and rose back up, adrenaline pulsing through his veins.

"All the way here I felt their disgusting, filthy, little cries."

He pointed to the door as though it contained toxic waste on the other side. He lowered his arm slowly and took a few steps towards the patient's bed. Her doll like eyes remained wide and absentminded.

"Looking at you, I feel pity."

These feelings were too excessive for Crane to comprehend. To go most of his life with such limited scope of emotions and without empathy of others...the sensations currently reverberating through his body were simply too much to cope with. His eyes widened, looking crazed.

"Maybe magic did this...but I...I can stop it."

Silence.

Such silence was typically suffocating in this small space, but very welcome at the moment. How long would this brief reprieve last?

Zatanna didn't move, not even once the iron lock clanked into place.

I'll count to thirty

Seconds passed and she still was alone. Only then did Zatanna get up and survey the room. On the floor was a lone needle broken off from glass, no doubt belonging to the syringe that bruised her arm. Zatanna plucked it from the ground and examined it closely.

Any bit helps.

She tucked it behind her ear, carefully avoiding the shards of glass near her bare feet. Aside from the clattered mess of broken vials, she was alone.

Tick

The sound of the air conditioning made her jump, fearful that the noise belonged to another. After a quick surveillance of her surroundings, she exhaled a shaky breath and closed her eyes. The thick lashes allowed beads of moisture to grace her face from previous tears.

C'mon, you're ok. You're ok. I-I'm ok.

Cool air graced her olive skin, drawing an immediate reaction to wrap her arms around her body. The movement caused Zatanna to become conscious of the tattered gown struggling to remain on.

It's cold.

The ripped gown fell from her body and she tied one of the blue bed sheets around herself as a makeshift dress. It was a flimsy fabric, but allowed for a feeling of warmth...safety.

Safe...am I safe?

Her eyes widened.

No. I can't stay here. I don't know what stopped him, but whatever it was...it won't stop him again.

Zatanna ran a hand through her hair and replayed the moments that lead to her solitude mere minutes ago.

The vile...it made me feel different. I had energy again...and then he...

She shook her head in anguish, not wanting to remember the near assault.

He stopped though. I was scared. I was hurting so bad and he stopped. I've never been able to do that before... make someone feel my pain.

True, Zatanna could feel pain from others and in special moments she chose to share her compassion with those afflicted.

All I ever wanted was to help people.

Crane managed to steal her compassion away, but today it seemed he felt her fear as well. The pain was so strong, unlike anything that she had felt before, not even the heat of battle and hurts from broken bones rivaled the fear of this disgusting creature attempting to violate her... clawing and wanting to be inside of her...

Fresh tears streamed her face.

If... if he could feel my pain...maybe Jon will be able to feel it too.

The serums Crane injected her with prevented the telekinetic connection between her thoughts and Martian Manhunter to go through. The link was severed early into her captivity. If thoughts couldn't reach him, maybe her emotions could.

If I could just project it, maybe they'll be able to find me, like a signal. Something loud like fear might be able to reach him.

Her heart was fluttering. Whispers of hope that hadn't existed for weeks were stirring in her chest. She closed her eyes, but the hope had replaced her fear. Confusion played across her face.

How...how will I-?

Then the realization hit causing her to contort in terror, progressing the stream of tears.

I can't.

In order to replicate and project the feeling of fear, she would have to embrace the memories of her assault.

The same dark loafers made their way down the dimly lit hall. This time, there was no steadfast march or haste. Instead of a crimson door, the trembling figure sought a standard gray iron clad entrance. Once he reached the destination, he placed a hand on the door, the bony fingers spread out as he lowered his head in frustration.

"This is the only way to stop these feelings."

Clink

Upon opening the chamber, Dr. Crane expected to find Zatanna on the other side of the room. Perhaps on the floor with her knees cradled to her chest in protection. That wild hair over her shoulder and the hospital gown that he tore sliding off her torso. The thought sickly excited him. He loved to think of her as wild, something only he could tame. The empathy her power transferred to him was ashamed of that notion and fought for pity and guilt to claim him.

He gritted his teeth and scanned the room seeing that Zatanna was on the floor, but a sheet replaced the gown and her eyes were closed. The enchantress was unconscious.

"No!"

He ran to her body, forgoing closing the door. The urge of compassion to check on his beautiful, seemingly lifeless prisoner, overtook him. Once near her he collapsed on the floor and cradled her body into his chest, shaking her in the process.

"Zatanna! Zatanna!"

Her lips slightly parted from his motions, but there was no response. He reached in his pocket for an orange vile again, bringing it to her nose in hopes it would have the same effect from the morning. Her chest lightly heaved, the first signs of air returning to her lungs, followed by the flutter of eyelids and coughing.

"There..." He cooed to her as though she were an infant.

At the sound of his voice, Zatanna opened her eyes wider and saw her savior was none other than her former assailant. With weakness she pushed him away and backed up against the wall.

Shame engulfed Crane, but he remembered his purpose and once again reached into his jacket and pulled out two syringes.

"I'm sorry for what I've done to you."

Zatanna just looked on, still in a mixed state of shock and fear.

Looks like my time has run out.

"I've always been a man of science. I never believed in magic"

He spoke the word as though it were ridiculous, fitting for an academic such as Jonathan Crane.

"Until I heard about you from one of my patients."

Zatanna shook her head and looked on in confusion.

Patients?

Crane took her quizzical look for permission to continue.

"I know. I know. It seems strange, but I still have some special cases I work on. Their here too."

Oh my god... what has he done to them...

He felt her concern.

"Are you worried about them? Who am I kidding, of course you are. Ever the kind hearted savior of the damned, hmm? Even when you're in here suffering."

He approached her with both syringes. Fear ricocheted off of her and straight into Crane causing him to wince.

"Have I always scared you this much?"

He pulled on her arm as she weakly attempted to swat him away. He was prepared for her panic and tightened his grip.

Ahhhh!

"No, it was after I hurt you. You have to understand, love. I just wanted to be with you. I love you, Zatanna."

She continued to coil away from him and shake her head in disgust, even as the cool needle from one of the syringes graced her skin.

"You don't believe me and maybe it is a lie, but I love you for however a man like myself can love."

The pain from the shot burned her skin, Zatanna wasn't sure if it was the shot alone or the combination of Crane's physical touch searing into her flesh.

"Look what I do for you."

The serum was pulsing trough her veins. Little stars obscured her vision. All she wanted was to get Crane off her now.

"STOP!"

The scream was scratchy and felt like knives raking at her throat, but it was Zatanna's voice. She jumped up at the sound, standing with her back against the wall. Her frantic gaze shifted to the bleeding spot on her arm and then back to Crane, who simply starred at her in a state of awe.

"Wh-what did you do?"

"I love you, Zatanna."

She put her hands to her ears.

"STOP SAYING THAT."

Crane cautiously stood, showing the syringe in his other hand.

"This one is for me."

"What...what are you doing?"

A smiled graced his full lips.

"Your voice is so beautiful. I wish I heard it more."

"YOU'RE SICK!"

"I can't take all these feelings, Zatanna. I don't know how you can do it. Faced with the pain of meaningless vermin...lost souls so loud it hurts."

Zatanna looked on in shock.

"Can you make me stop feeling?"

Sure, compassion was easily transferred to others and yes, fear had now been added to the range of emotions she could project, but Zatanna couldn't make anyone stop feeling. Despite her weakened state and seething hatred for her tormentor, Zatanna could feel the curse of compassion for the wounded spirit in front of her. It took hold and caused her to answer truthfully.

"No."

His face was stoic, but she sensed a bittersweet disappointment behind those framed eyes. She parted her lips to speak again when suddenly, Crane slammed the needled point of his syringe into his neck, grunting and falling to the floor.

"I...m-manufactured...my own cure." He coughed through sputtered breaths.

His eyes glazed over and he started to laugh maniacally. A look of panic struck his face as he desperately scratched his throat.

"N-NO. Th-his. Not RIGHT. Somet-th WR- Ung."

A mix of emotions swirled through his face and Zatanna could only feel minor vibrations of them. Though she wasn't a scientist, she knew the truth behind this episode. You can't manufacture emotions and you can't repress them either. They only find other ways to manifest...painful ones...like the aversive reaction plaguing "The Scarecrow" right now.

He kept twisting on the floor while violently convulsing. In that moment, she could have muttered a spell to help him, but Zatanna felt as though she was no longer a slave to the compassion. It was her gift, not a curse, used whenever she willed it.

Without a word, she stepped over his body and out the unclosed door.

The hall was dimly lit and her footsteps were soft. She followed the exit signs and made her way to another locked door. Summoning the strength for magic was difficult to do in this exhausted stated. Gently, she placed her hand on the door and closed her eyes. Little sparks slowly sputtered around the space.

"Nepo."

It was nearly a whisper, but the door opened with a clumsy clank. She took a step out in the darkness and felt the night breeze on her skin. Sirens blared distantly.

"Gotham."

It looked like her former confines were nothing more than a discarded building in the warehouse district. The mixture of moon and streetlight obscured shadows from other tall structures.

"I was downtown this whole time..."

Suddenly a blinding light mirroring the white luminesce of her cell pierced through the sky. Zatanna reflexively placed a hand over her eyes to lessen the intense brightness. The craft landed, expelling a blur of black and green as Batman, Green Arrow, and Martian Manhunter rushed to their lost companion. It was Dick's strong arms that gripped her first.

"Zat!" Ollie's voice was unusually high pitched with worry, but all Zatanna could focus on was the feeling of male arms around her. It should have been warm and welcomed, but the touch of Crane still marked her skin.

"Dick, take a step back. She's frightened." Jon placed a tender hand on Batman's shoulder. Dick cautiously stepped back, still too overcome with emotion to speak. Her empath abilities picked up traces of shame, guilt, and the familiar sense of love emanating from her childhood friend.

"You...you didn't fail me, Grayson." Her voice was hoarse, but her eyes were soft.

"I'm so sorry Zat...I should have been there. When Jon told me he lost the connection with you I came right back. We went to the coordinates you were sent to, but there were all these clues that took us to further places. We should have known. We sh-."

"Teiuq."

Zatanna placed a finger to his lips.

"You need to listen. Crane is in there."

The others seemed to stiffen at the mention of his name.

" He's gone mad. There are others trapped there too."

Green Arrow nodded his head and was the first to enter the warehouse, followed by a still shaken Batman. Jon hesitantly hovered in place, giving his friend a knowing look. Zatanna sighed and looked away.

"What did you tell them?"

He floated near her, mindful to keep physical distance.

"Only that I felt you were scared...in pain."

"I still am." She mused in a bittersweet smirk.

"I know."

The mage turned to her trusted confidant. A silent tear fell from her eye as she finally met his gaze. "What should I tell them?"

Jon took in a deep breath.

"Only what you like. You didn't choose what happened to you, but you can choose what to do with it moving forward. We love and respect you no matter what."

For the first time in a long while, a genuine sense of safety washed over Zatanna. She reached behind her ear to pluck the needle and toss it to Jon.

"It's from the syringe he used on me. Maybe you can test it for chemicals back at the hall?"

Jon nodded and placed the needle in a compartment on his red belt. As he turned to join the others in the warehouse, Zatanna called out once more.

"Jon? Will you sit here with me and just...just hold my hand?"

They sat there in silence as their teammates rounded up prisoners and shackled a hallucinating wreck that was the scarecrow to the Batplane. The Gotham Police force joined in identifying the so-called "patients". Zatanna could feel their hurts immensely and would normally rush to their aid, but the lack of discretion in using this special power as an empath was draining her. Zatanna resolved to meet them tomorrow. Give a testimony to Commissioner Gordon and even share her ordeal with the others then. For now, she was content watching the sunrise with Jon, focusing the compassion so often lent to others, on herself.


End file.
